


Work Experience on Sodor 3

by steamandstardust



Series: Work Experience on Sodor [3]
Category: Thomas the Tank Engine & Friends, Thomas the Tank Engine - All Media Types
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-11 22:47:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17455745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steamandstardust/pseuds/steamandstardust
Summary: Mistaking an accident at the wash stand for further romantic interest between James and Libby, Gordon plots to get back at James by sending him to the Dieselworks.James is captured and made an example of by Diesel 10. Gordon regrets his actions when James does not return to the sheds and goes to help him, but also gets trapped. Finally, Libby heads to the Dieselworks and is forced to make a pact with Diesel in order to save the two stricken steam engines.





	Work Experience on Sodor 3

The Fat Controller had come to the Tidmouth sheds early that morning. All of the engines were assigned their jobs for the day; all except James and Gordon. I had been asked to repaint some of the woodwork, and I chose a section that meant I could listen.

“Gordon,” said the Fat Controller, “you ought to be ashamed of yourself! Going missing all afternoon, leaving your express for another engine and almost colliding with Percy!”

Gordon blushed.

“Yes sir. Sorry sir,” he said gloomily.

James was chuckling at Gordon’s embarrassment, but the Fat Controller quickly silenced him.

“And you James! Am I to believe that the damage in the steamworks is all down to you?”

I felt my own cheeks redden at the memory of just how the buffer had got broken, and I was glad no one had noticed me there.

James dropped his gaze in shame.

“Yes sir,” he admitted.

“Both of you have caused confusion and delay!” Announced the Fat Controller crossly. “James, you will go to the docks to collect a pallet of timber so the buffer can be repaired. Gordon, I am going to propose a swap so that you can spend some time on the mainland remembering your responsibilities. But for now, the express is waiting!”

Both engines steamed off sulkily and I busied myself with the paintbrush as the Fat Controller walked past.

“You’re doing a splendid job,” he said kindly, “when James gets back I would like you to go to the wash stand and give him a good clean down. His paintwork is all dusty.”

I groaned inwardly. The last thing I wanted was to have my hands all over James after our awkward encounter in the steamworks. But what could I say? And would anyone even believe me?

An hour later, my day was not improving. Standing with a brush and some old blue overalls in my hands, I waited for James to arrive. He whooshed to a halt, giving me a perky blast of his whistle. I couldn’t help smiling a little.

“Hello James,” I said. Out here, in the light and open air, it was hard to imagine how he had over powered me in the gloom of the steamworks.

I took one sniff of the old overalls and decided against them. In a few minutes I was soaked to the skin, but I worked hard and soon most of James was gleaming again. I had been working especially vigorously so there was no opportunity to talk, but as I was about to put the brush away James piped up.

“You missed a bit!”

“Where?”

“My funnel is dusty,” he fussed.

I stood on my tiptoes, balancing on his buffer to wash the tall black funnel. I was almost done, when a familiar whistle distracted me. It was Gordon! I turned around to look down the track, perhaps a little too enthusiastically, and slipped on the wet paintwork. James and I were very suddenly nose to nose. I heard a shocked intake of breath as Gordon went past, and scrambled up just in time to see his eyebrows furrowed angrily as he steamed away.

“Gordon!” I called, but he was already gone. What must he have thought? Did he imagine I was kissing James at the wash stand?What terrible luck!

“You’re done James,” I said impatiently.

“Gordon is always cross about something. He thinks too much of himself,” James said consolingly.

But I didn’t feel any better.

Gordon was thundering down the track and feeling very cross indeed.

“I will teach him, I will teach him,” he muttered, and he came up with a plan to get back at James. Later, when Gordon bumped into James, he smiled his best smile and greeted the red engine cheerily.

“Hello James, the Fat Controller told me he has a special job for you.”

“Really?”

“Yes, if you aren’t too scared.”

“Why would I be scared?”

“He needs a special delivery to be collected from the Dieselworks.”

“The Dieselworks?” Exclaimed James, “but everyone knows steamies never go there!”

“Oh well,” puffed Gordon, “I will tell the Fat Controller that you were too frightened to do your work.”

“Please don’t, please don’t!” Said James, and he wheeshed off down the rails determinedly.

A smug grin spread across Gordon’s face. It was too easy. 

The afternoon passed quickly and all the engines and their drivers got on with their work well. Night began to fall and I met Gordon in his berth as usual. One by one, each of the other engines returned to the sheds for the night. All, that was, except James. Soon there was chatter amongst the other engines as to where he might be.

“Is he doing a special job?” Asked Percy.

“Has he got lost?” Wondered Henry.

“Maybe he needs our help,” suggested Thomas.

Gordon was silent. I stroked his paintwork gently and I could feel he was agitated for some reason.

“What’s wrong Gordon?” I whispered.

“Oh nothing to worry about, it’s just I have recalled something I must do.” And with that he steamed hurriedly out of his berth and into the night.

I shrugged to the others. It was most peculiar.

Another hour passed and neither James or Gordon returned. I was getting worried and I decided to confide in Thomas.

“I agree,” Thomas replied, “we should look for them.”

We roused the other engines and all of us split up to search. But the night dragged on and there was no sign of our missing friends.

“Is there anywhere we haven’t searched?” I asked Thomas.

He was quiet for a moment.

“There is one place, but us steamies never go there. The Dieselworks.”

“Oh,” I said, “why don’t you go there?”

“Diesels can be….. devious.”

“Do you think we should look in case?”

I could tell that Thomas was nervous, but he agreed.

We rolled slowly up to the Dieselworks. Even though it was the middle of the night, we could see light spilling out through chinks in the corrugated iron.

“Strange,” I muttered to myself. “Thomas, wait here. I’m going to creep up quietly and look in through a crack.”

I peered through a gap in the shutters and clapped my hand over my mouth in shock. They had James and Gordon! I immediately saw what Thomas meant about the Diesel engines; they were oily and dirty and their faces were pinched in malice. I shifted my spying post to get a better look, but as I leant on a patch of rotten wood it gave way beneath my weight! I landed in an undignified heap inside the Dieselworks.

“What do we have here?” Asked a serpentine voice. I peered up and into the face of Diesel.

Of course I had seen him the odd time but I had never got close to him, let alone spoke to him. Something about his manner put me off.

“Sorry about the wall,” I said sheepishly.

“Oh don’t delay, being her on in,” purred another voice, “there’s plenty more room at this party.”

I stared in the direction of the new voice and gulped at what I saw. What purpose could such an engine serve?

Diesel 10 regarded me with a predatory interest and flexed the huge metal claw that extended from his roof.

“You are just in time for some fun,” he said silkily, and I had a strong feeling that his idea of fun would be very different to mine.

It all began at once. James had already been shunted and pushed into position, and now the great crane reached down and plucked him up, raising him helplessly into the air. He swung there gently, trying not to show his fright.

“James, what’s happening?” I shouted.

“Gordon tricked me!” James called pitifully. 

I turned to Gordon, who was penned in between two more burly looking diesels. He looked very sorry for himself indeed.

“Is this true?” I asked Gordon.

“Yes, but I came to get him back.”

“And got trapped here yourself!” I concluded.

“It would appear so.”

I drew myself up tall and faced Diesel 10. “Let my friends go,” I demanded.

“You heard her,” he said to the crane, “let the silly steamie go.”

“No!” James and I yelled at the same time.

All of the diesels laughed unpleasantly.

“Quite right,” said Diesel 10, “not until we’ve had our fun.”

He oiled over to where James was suspended. The metal claw reached upwards and Diesel 10 proceeded to, quite carefully, touch James’ undercarriage.

James whimpered, his face contorting.

“Stop you’re hurting him!” I cried.

All of the diesels laughed again. James cried out, his cheeks turning scarlet as his paintwork.

And then I realised something. It made me blush as well. Diesel 10 wasn’t hurting James. James was screaming with…. pleasure.

Part of me thought that it served James right, after he had treated me similarly in the steamworks, but there was something worse about this. It was more degrading with so many engines watching.

“Oh, the indignity!” Groaned Gordon.

Diesel rounded on him with glee.

“You’re next fat face!

"It isn’t right! It isn’t decent!” Gordon cried in panic, “I won’t stand for it!”

I wanted to run to his side, but the diesel engines prevented me. Up in the air, poor James was being forced to climax after climax, great clouds of steam rolling off him as he gasped for breath. Eventually, he was lowered back down to the ground. James was so exhausted he could barely hold his wheels on the track.

Diesel 10 was flushed with excitement.

“We all know he’s strong enough to pull the express. But let’s see if he’s strong enough to not beg me to finish him.”

Gordon was shunted and pushed towards the crane.

“Please no!” He cried, “the shame of it! I should never live it down!”

I couldn’t bear to see him so distressed. There must be something I could do. And then an idea came to me; an awful idea.

“Diesel,” I said, turning to the devious black engine, “why does Diesel 10 have all the fun?”

“Oh we’re having fun watching. Did you hear how James screamed? Not so splendid now, is he?” Diesel jibed.

“But what if you were the important one…. and everyone was watching you?” I whispered my idea to him, and his mouth dropped open in surprise.

“You mean that?” He asked.

I nodded. “But you must let Gordon go.”

Diesel whirred off.

“Stop!” He cried to the assembled engines.

Gordon was just about to be lifted up by the crane. But Diesel whispered something to Diesel 10, and then suddenly all eyes were on me.

“Very well fleshie,” said Diesel 10, “you will provide the distraction and this great galloping sausage can watch.”

‘I will be thinking of you…’ I mouthed to Gordon. His eyes widened as he realised what I was about to do.

Diesel was waiting for me, a sly smirk on his face. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart, and climbed into his cab. The layout was unfamiliar, nothing like when I was with Gordon. I was regretting my bravado now.

Diesel rattled on his rails.

“Get on with it then!” He cried. Diesel 10 laughed and suddenly I was angry. I wanted to teach devious Diesel a lesson…

“Let’s see how much you can take….” I muttered.

Exploring with my fingertips, I traced a line down the handle of his brake valve. Leaning on his dash, I let him feel my body press against him. He shuddered, and I sensed his arousal. Turning my attention to the large handle of his power controller, I took it into my mouth, giving him the same attention I had so often given Gordon. Suddenly the air was thick with fumes. I heard Diesel sigh and I sucked hard, willing him to cry out. I wanted to make the same spectacle of him as Diesel 10 had made of James. The tension was mounting in his metalwork, and I knew just what would tip him over the edge. I knelt on his dash, now allowing the handle to slide inside me. That was it!

He was gasping now, swaying on his tracks as if he couldn’t contain himself. As much as I might not have wanted to admit it, I was enjoying myself. Diesel shook beneath me and I pressed on, beyond anything he had known or imagined. A shocked silence fell in the Dieselworks as the black engine huffed and heaved helplessly. By the time I was done, he had screamed himself into silence.

“Anyone else feeling brave?” I said cheerfully.

The engines parted without a word. Even Diesel 10 remained quiet.

I patted Gordon’s paintwork and hopped into his cab. Immediately I felt more at home. James stayed close behind us.

“Let’s get you home,” I said.


End file.
